


The one you warned me all about

by Arabwel



Series: Papa Don't Preach [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Both of them enjoy it, Breeding, Choking, Come Eating, Come Marking, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Hair-pulling, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Incest, Knotting, Marking, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Post-Coital Cuddling, Rough Sex, Scent Marking, Uncircumcised Penis, Under-negotiated Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Vibrators, lydia snores and it's cute, no one feels violated, peter is a secret cuddlebug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 00:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10524672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabwel/pseuds/Arabwel
Summary: Peter Hale smirks at her from where he’s perched on her window sill like an overgrown cat.“I came to see if you were alright, after what happened earlier today. I did not expect to seethismuch of you.”Belatedly, Lydia realizes the robe is still puddled around her legs; with a shrill noise she yanks it back around her body, to hide herself from his… well, he’s not leering, she’ll give him that.“I’m fine and you can leave now.” Her voice is steady even though she feels frozen on the spot.“Are you really?” he asks as he slides off the sill gracefully and takes a step towards her. “I can see the bruises, sweetheart, and I know Argent is not a gentle lover.”***Or, Peter comes to visit Lydia to see how she's feeling after the incident at the cabin and things escalate from there





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Papa Don't Preach by Madonna 
> 
> Please see notes for clarification of the mildly dubious consent / implied incest tags 
> 
> Huge massive thank you to Triangulum for being the best ever enabler and making this fic happen! 
> 
> As always, if you think I should tag something or want to clarify something before reading please do

Lydia is so glad her mother is not at home. It would be hard enough to explain her ruined shirt now that her mom has become vigilant about the supernatural, let alone the livid bite marks all over her neck and shoulders. 

To say nothing of the rest of the bruises. 

She’s too restless to wait for a bath so instead she takes a quick shower, hissing at how sensitive she is between her legs still. She doesn’t bother to blow dry her hair, just wraps it in a towel that matches her softest, most comfortable robe. 

Back in her room, her reflection catches her eye. She stands in front of the full length mirror, eyeing the marks Mr. Argent left on her critically. It’s not as bad as the time she was nearly _strangled to death_ but also nothing like the few nips her boyfriends have given her in the past. 

She undoes the belt of the robe and lets it slide off her shoulders, showing more marks on her skin, scrapes from the table and the dark purple bruises left on her breasts in the shape of a man’s hands. 

The robe falls free of her elbows and slides lower, baring her waist and hips. More bruises from when Mr. Argent gripped her hard, when he fucked into her like she’d never been fucked before. Her pussy is still a little red, a little swollen. If she turns around and cranes her neck she will be able to see if he really bruised her ass with his hand, and if she spreads her cheeks she can see if her hole still looks fucked. 

Lydia turns around and screams 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” 

Peter Hale smirks at her from where he’s perched on her window sill like an overgrown cat. 

“I came to see if you were alright, after what happened earlier today. I did not expect to see _this_ much of you.”

Belatedly, Lydia realizes the robe is still puddled around her legs; with a shrill noise she yanks it back around her body, to hide herself from his… well, he’s not leering, she’ll give him that. 

“I’m fine and you can leave now.” Her voice is steady even though she feels frozen on the spot. 

“Are you really?” he asks as he slides off the sill gracefully and takes a step towards her. “I can see the bruises, sweetheart, and I know Argent is not a gentle lover.” 

Lydia shivers, the memory of Mr. Argent’s touch sparking heat along her spine. Peter is right, nothing about their encounter was gentle, not even when he was on his knees eating her out, her fingers curled in his salt and pepper hair. Her inner thighs are still raw from the stubble, from how hard he _used_ her.

Even though it is a cliche, every word he’d spoken in his gravelly voice about how he was nothing like the _boys_ she’d been with had been true; he’d made her come harder than she’d ever come before, touched her like no one else ever had and even now the memory of being manhandled, of being _taken_ gets her wet. 

Peter doesn’t fail to notice. He smirks as he stalks forward, circling around her like a shark and not a wolf. She knows she should say something, scream, tell him to get out again - she’s not helpless, not any more, her fears no longer manifesting alongside the memory of him like they had during his resurrection. 

“But you don’t like it gentle, do you?” he croons as he steps close enough to touch, to put his hands on her shoulders and slide along the soft fabric of her robe so sensuously it makes her shiver. 

Lydia closes her eyes as he leans forward to scent her neck, hot air puffing against her skin as his lips brush against her ear. “You’re an unstoppable force who wants an immovable object.”

She knows he’s right, damn him. 

Lydia doesn’t resist when he undoes the robe and pulls the fabric off her shoulders. She knows she should but there’s a restless tingling under her skin, heat at the pit of her belly at the thought of letting him do this, letting Peter Hale finally show her what he can do to make her scream. For all his creeping when he was inside her head he never touched her like this, never took anything but that one toe-curling kiss she’s shamefully gotten off to more than once since then. 

“So beautiful,” Peter murmurs and moves to cup her breast, fingers slotting over the bruises already there, thumb brushing her rapidly hardening nipple. 

She gasps when he kisses her neck, his mouth trailing along the same path as Mr. Argent’s lips took, tracing the bruises on her skin. Her eyes flutter shut and she leans back against him, luxuriating in the strength of his arms and the inhuman warmth of his body. 

“Tell me what Daddy did to you,” his words shouldn't be hot, shouldn’t send a wave of heat through her body; she’s getting wet and she knows he can smell it on her, can feel her heartbeat speeding up under his touch. 

“He touched me,” she says, the words coming out soft, teasing. 

“I know that, baby girl,” she can feel his smirk and the fact that he’s calling her by the same name as Mr. Argent did makes her shiver again. 

“Tell me, did he touch your pretty little tits? Did he pinch your fat nipples -” his thumb circles around the areola - “and suck on them?” 

Her cheeks flush at the memory of just where Mr. Argent put his mouth on her, but she shakes her head. “No he - he didn’t suck on my nipples.” 

Peter clicks his tongue. “Such a shame, these were _made_ for it.” He rolls her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making her whimper. 

“Will you suck on them?” Lydia hates how pleading she sounds but she wants it, wants him to suck on her tits, put that hot werewolf mouth on her. 

“Maybe if you’re good for me.” Peter’s hand trail downs her belly, pausing at the top of her mound. “Did he eat you out, Lydia? Did you have Daddy’s mouth between your legs to get you ready for his cock?” 

She can feel Peter’s erection pressing against her back. “He - he licked me out after,” she tells him. “And he -”

“And he what, baby girl?” Peter’s voice is sweet venom as he presses down on her mound, teases her with it. “Did he put his tongue somewhere else? Did he lick your little hole open for his cock before he used your ass?” 

Lydia whimpers. “Yes, Daddy, he did!” 

 

Peter _growls_ at her words, his hand dipping lower and Lydia can _hear_ the slick sound her pussy makes when he parts her lips. “And did he come in your ass, baby girl? Or did he spill inside your pretty little cunt?” 

“He - he- “ She tries to get the words out, tries to fight the urge to buck her hips against his hand, to try to get his fingers _inside_ her, her clit aching to be touched. “He - he didn’t come in my ass, he came on my face and in my pussy.” 

She’s never talked to anyone like this -not until today, not until Mr. Argent asked her if she liked showing off her tits and she’d gotten so wet from it, from talking about her tits and cunt and how much she wants this. 

“Did you suck his cock, baby girl?” Peter’s thumb brushes against her lower lip and she moans a little when he presses it into her mouth, just for a moment. 

“Yes, Daddy,” she breathes and that’s another thing that’s making her blush even as she’s so turned on. “I asked if - if I could clean his cock and he told me to - to get him hard again with my whore mouth.” 

Peter’s thumb strokes her lips again. “Such a pretty mouth you have, sweetheart. Such pretty dick sucking lips. Did you choke on it? Did you choke on Daddy’s cock?” 

Lydia nods, the memory of Mr. Argent’s cock hitting the back of her throat, cutting off her air sending a shiver down her spine. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you’ll get better, you’ll learn how to let Daddy fuck your throat like a good little slut. You are a good little slut, aren’t you, Lydia?” 

 

She knows she should deny it, she should push him away, scream, put a stop to this. But she can’t deny how hot his words make her, can’t deny the pleasure sparking at her spine by being called a _slut_ by him - it’s nothing like the girls at school trying to call her names. Not when Peter’s voice is like dark chocolate and silk caressing along her skin. 

This isn’t like the heat she felt at the cabin, the desperate urge to get fucked - this is something genuine rising at the pit of her belly that has her cunt aching, clenching around nothing as she trembles in Peter’s arms. 

Lydia licks her lips. She should say no, should scream - this is _Peter_ , this isn’t Mr. Argent or someone safe, someone good for her. But he’s so broad against her, his fingers so clever as they tease her with a barely-there touch and she’s tired of denying herself. 

“Yes, Daddy.” 

 

“Good girl.” Peter chuckles and lets go of her. “Now get on the bed, sweetheart, and spread your legs for me.” 

Lydia’s knees tremble when she takes a step towards the bed, the hairs at the back of her neck raising. She’s lost the towel around her hair, she realizes when she sits on the bed, damp locks falling around her face.

“On your back,” Peter instructs her and she looks up at him, looks at his face for first time since - whatever this is started. 

He looks _hungry_ , eyes dark with want as he watches her lie back on the bed. 

She thinks she should be shivering with fear and not arousal as he stalks forward, every inch the predator. But there’s tenderness mixed in with the hunger, tenderness she’s seen him capable of before and no trace of capriciousness. 

Lydia licks her lips in anticipation when his hands go to his belt and start to undo it slowly, the sound of leather against denim loud in her ears. She can’t look away from the way his hands frame the bulge in his jeans, the same bulge that was pressed against her and promised a lot. 

“Hungry for this?” He smirks and rubs a hand over his erection. 

“Yes, Daddy.” Lydia leans further back into the pillows. 

“Patience,” he chides her and between one heartbeat and the next he’s kneeling between her legs, the mattress dipping under his bulk. 

Lydia shivers when he runs his hands up her legs, spreading her thighs even wider. His touch is so light it’s almost ticklish, his thumbs brushing the insides of her knees sending sparks down her spine. She feels so exposed, even more so than when Mr. Argent ripped her top open in the cabin as he arranges her legs to his liking, bent at the knee, tilting her hips, exposing her pussy and ass to his hungry eyes. 

“You’re still so red,” he murmurs as he brushes his fingers over her swollen lips. “Did he use you hard, sweetheart?” 

“Yes, Daddy,” Lydia pants. “He -he bred me.” 

Peter’s eyes flash blue and he growls, deep in his throat. It should not be hot. 

“Did he just bend you over and slam into your pretty little pussy?” His fingers slide between her lips, tease around her entrance, so close to dipping inside. 

“He - he had me on my back” she whimpers, hips bucking towards him. “He tied my wrists at first but he cut the ties and threw me down so he could fuck me deep, breed my tight little pussy.” 

“I can see that, sweetheart,” Peter’s voice is low. “I can see the marks on your wrists and I can see how roughly this-” he rubs his hand over her pussy, makes Lydia squirm, “was used.” 

His wet fingers dip lower, to press against her asshole, fingertip sinking in and Lydia whimpers at the touch; she’s still sore from being fucked there, sore from Mr. Argent bending her over and fucking her virgin ass. 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Peter asks, as if he can read her mind. “Having a thick cock in your tight little hole?” 

Before she can answer his finger slides deeper and she gasps at how good it feels, even as the empty ache in her cunt is highlighted. 

“Did you come from being fucked here, sweetheart?” he asks and again that venomous sweetness is present in his voice. “Did daddy make you come like this?” 

Lydia can only nod in response, words failing her. 

Peter smirks. “Good girl.”

She doesn’t know what she expects him to say next, but when he lowers his head and licks her slit it’s a surprise. His mouth is hot and wet, his broad tongue finding her clit unerringly. 

Lydia whines, back arching off the bed as he devours her; he holds her down, the noise he makes more animal than human as he licks and sucks at her, lapping at her clit only to pull back so he can slide his tongue inside her. 

Her expensive sheets bunch under her hands as she writhes, hips futilely trying to buck into his mouth. She’s so close, so wet it sounds obscene and he’s not even fingering her cunt, and she feels so empty despite the two fingers he has buried in her ass. 

“Please,” she whines, “Daddy… in me... need to come, Daddy, please let me come-“

Peter lifts his head and grins at her, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You can come, sweetheart, come as many times as you can.” 

He dips his head and _laves_ on her clit, fast and hard and she’s screaming, her cunt convulsing around nothing. It feels so good, like a dam breaking inside her and she’s almost sobbing when he slides two thick fingers inside her, spreading her open. 

Lydia isn’t sure if she’s coming again or if it’s just one long orgasm that he’s wrenching out of her, his tongue relentlessly flicking against her clit, his fingers deep inside her holes pressing into spots that make her see stars. 

She’s crying out his name as she thrashes in his grip, as he keeps his mouth on her cunt and doesn't let her go. It feels like an eternity until he lifts his head, face dripping with her juices and  
pulls his fingers slowly out of her swollen cunt to lick at them. 

“I can still taste him,” he says, voice rough, almost wrecked. “Taste Argent in your cunt.” 

 

It takes a moment for Lydia to have enough air to respond. “You know what he tastes like?” 

And she intends it as a barb, a payback for how wrecked she is from his mouth. She doesn’t expect the slow, wicked grin on his face. 

“Intimately, sweetheart.” 

The pieces click to place and oh does it paint a pretty picture; Lydia gasps at the heat blooming at the pit of her belly when she pictures them, when she pictures Peter on his knees in front of Mr. Argent. 

Peter’s nostrils flare and she realizes he can smell it on her, how turned on the idea makes her. 

“You really like that idea, don’t you sweetheart? Your little cunt is dripping with the thought of getting to watch,” Peter croons as he runs his fingers slowly over her sensitive slit, drawing a deep moan from her. “Don’t worry, you’ll get more than just to watch.”

Lydia closes her eyes, trying to bite back her whimper at the idea of having both Peter and Mr. Argent touching her at the same time, of having two sets of hands on her, two cocks inside her. 

His fingers press against her asshole again, a tantalizing tease. “You can have his thick cock in here while I breed your cunt, Lydia, knot you tight and fill you up.” 

“That’s not - “ Lydia blinks, confused. Knots aren’t - Aiden never had - 

“Oh, it is possible, just ask your dear friend Allison. “ Peter smirks and Lydia flushes at the realization that the same hands teasing her now were touching her best friend just as intimately; the thought makes her whimper, makes her remember the way Mr. Argent interrogated her about what she had done with Allison and the memory should not be hot, it should be gross and tainted because Allison is his _daughter_ , the knowledge he’d gotten harder in her mouth at the thought of Lydia and Allison touching each other appalling. 

It shouldn’t make her shudder with need. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I am sure Allison will tell you all about it if you ask her nicely.” He pulls his hand away from her cunt and ignores her bereft whine, taking a moment to pull off his shirt and bare his broad shoulders. 

Lydia doesn’t have the time to respond before he’s leaning over her, kissing her, wet and filthy. She can taste herself on his tongue, can smell herself on the fingers that cup her face too tenderly as he kisses her with the same intensity as he went down on her. 

She moans into the kiss, her hands scrabbling to hold onto his shoulders and when he nips at her lower lip hard enough to sting, she sinks her nails into his back in retaliation. 

“Feisty,” he chides her between kisses. “Do you want a spanking, baby girl? Or did Argent leave you bruised?” 

He drags a hand down her side, to cup at her ass and press against the bruises there. 

“No, Daddy,” Lydia pants into his mouth. “I’ll be good, Daddy, please give me your cock.” 

She’s _aching_ for it, despite how many times he made her come, despite how sore her cunt is from being fucked so hard by Mr. Argent, she wants to feel him inside her, wants to be full of cock and made to _take_ it. 

“Good girl,” Peter murmurs and it shouldn't make her hot but it does, makes her whine when he starts kissing his way down her neck, his lips hot and tender on her bruised skin. 

He cups her breast in his broad hand and takes the tip in his mouth and it feels so good Lydia wants to cry as he sucks hard, flicking his tongue and making her nipples harder than she thought possible. 

“Such gorgeous tits,” Peter breathes as he moves to lick at the other one. “Perfect and soft. You’ll look so good when you get bred, your tits heavy with milk.” 

Lydia gasps at the heat that floods her at his words, at the thought of being knocked up, being _bred_. It feels so wrong - she’s too young, she has college, it’s _Peter_ \- but the thought of his come so deep inside her, her belly swelling up because she’s been fucked so good, so deep has her stifling a cry.

Peter laughs and she can hear the sound of a zipper, feels the bed shift as he starts to remove his jeans. “Don’t be offended, sweetheart, you always look perfect, so pretty and delicate, begging to be wrecked on my cock.” 

He leans in to kiss her again, slow and deep, and Lydia whines when he pulls back so he can finish undressing, her eyes following his every move. Of course there’s nothing under the jeans, he’s gone commando, and her mouth waters at the sight of his dick, thick and proud as it rises from a thatch of carefully groomed hair.

Peter strokes himself slowly, the foreskin moving over the tip of his cock almost hypnotically. Lydia’s never been with someone who wasn’t circumcised and she licks her lips in anticipation. 

“What’s that, sweetheart? You’re hungry for Daddy’s cock?” 

Lydia pouts as she nods in response. “Yes, Daddy.” 

“You want to suck me before I breed your pretty little pussy?”

And Lydia wants to, she wants to feel that thick cock in her mouth, taste the precome she can see slicking the tip, but her pussy aches with emptiness and she wants to come again, stretched around something thick so badly. Her indecisiveness must show on her face as Peter chuckles and crawls up her body to kiss her again. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll let you fuck your fingers in your sweet little cunt to prepare you for my cock while you suck on me. Argent was right about your little whore mouth being _made_ for cock.” 

She can feel herself getting wet at his words, her pussy clenching around nothing as he takes hold of her and moves her to a better position, tugging her gently by the hair until she’s knelt between his legs, facing his cock. 

Peter tugs her hair again, a little rougher, enough to sting and she leans forward, licking her lips to get them wet before she kisses the head of his cock. She can taste the precome as she parts her lips, licks at the head like a lollipop, curious at the way the foreskin moves at her touch. 

He groans and she smirks at the sound; she reaches out to take hold of his cock, her breath catching when she realizes she can barely wrap her small hand around his girth. Her pussy _throbs_ between her legs at the thought of having him inside her, filling her up. 

“That’s it, baby girl, use that pretty mouth on me,” Peter encourages her with another tug on her hair that has her moaning, the head of his cock slipping between her lips and filling her mouth, hot and heavy on her tongue.

He keeps encouraging her as she slides her free hand between her legs, as she moans around his cock when she touches herself. She’s so wet, so sensitive she thinks her cunt must be bright red after his mouth, after being fucked by Mr. Argent so thoroughly. She nearly cries out when she brushes her thumb over her clit, the little nub hard and throbbing under her touch. 

“Did I say you can play with your clit, Lydia?” Peter chides her, tightening his grip of her hair. 

Lydia’s eyes flick up to his face as he pulls her head back, his cock sliding free with an obscene wet pop. “No, Daddy,” she says breathlessly. 

“That’s right, baby girl,” he practically purrs, stroking her face. “How many fingers do you usually have in your cunt?” 

She can feels her cheeks redden at the question, so absurd after everything they’ve already done. “Four, Daddy.”

“Such a greedy little pussy you have,” Peter smirks. 

“All the better for Daddy to fuck.” Lydia’s expression matches his as she leans forward and licks his cock from root to tip, swirling her tongue around the leaking head. 

“Oh, you little minx,” Peter groans. “Do it, baby girl, finger yourself for me.” 

Lydia moans as she slides her fingers into her pussy; she’s so hot inside, so wet, barely feeling the stretch when her pinky slides in. It’s so hard to not to press the heel of her hand against her clit, to not to rock against her palm as she mouths at Peter’s cock, her jaw starting to ache from his girth. 

“That’s it, sweetheart… fuck your pussy for me,” Peter murmurs, hands cupping her face as he pulls her down further on his cock, the thick head pressing at the back of her throat, deep enough to make her gag, her throat convulsing around him as she struggles to breathe. 

He yanks her head back up by the hair and she gasps for breath, eyes watering. This should turn her off, shouldn’t be hot but her pussy throbs around her fingers and she knows he can tell when he grins at her and rubs a thumb against her swollen lower lip. 

“Sometimes Daddy likes to hear a little choking, sweetheart,” he croons, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. 

“Are you going to come in my mouth?” The words slip out before she can stop herself. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I would _love_ to breed this,” he strokes his thumb over her lips again, dips inside to press down on her tongue. “But I want to feel your tight little pussy around my knot as I breed you like the sweet bitch you are.”

Lydia can’t help it, she nips at his thumb and Peter yelps, pulling his hand back. She smirks and brings her hand up to lick at her fingers, tasting herself on her skin as she moves up to straddle him. 

Peter’s eyes flash bright, unnatural blue, but he’s smiling when she wraps her hand around his engorged cock, still slick from her mouth and his precome.

She hesitates for a fraction of a second; he’s so thick that even after taking four of her fingers there’s a frisson of fear, a delicious shiver down her spine as she positions herself above him. 

“You’re dripping slick on my cock, baby girl,” Peter practically purrs. “Go on, take it inside. Feed your hungry little pussy.” 

Lydia closes her eyes and starts to lower herself down on him achingly slowly, her thighs burning with the effort. The blunt head sinks between her folds easily, pressing against her hole and drawing a high whine from her as she’s stretched up even further around it. 

“That’s it, fuck yourself on my cock,” Peter croons, his hands coming up to her hips and holding her in place with no way to go but down. 

“Daddy,” she whines, her nails scrabbling against his chest, leaving red welts that heal instantly. “It’s too big...” It’s too much for her swollen, sore cunt to take after everything she’s been through today, after Mr. Argent fucked her raw. 

“Shh, baby, you can take it.” Peter’s tone is low and soothing and there’s a pulse of warmth over her, the ache receding as she watches the darkened veins in his arms. “Daddy’s got you.” 

Lydia whimpers, blinking away tears as she sinks down on him, as he fills her up all the way to the root. He feels so big inside her, so hot, so fucking _good_ she wants to cry with it, the way her pussy throbs echoing from her wrists to her ears. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Peter’s voice is strained. “Being so full. Your little cunt is so red and sore and you still want more, still want your slutty hole full of cock.”

And Lydia wants to protest, wants to deny him but then he’s nudging his hips, thrusting inside her just so and all she can do is whine, head thrown back as he starts to move, starts to fuck into her. 

Peter’s arm wraps around her waist and she’s dimly aware of just how strong he is, easily moving her body like a doll with his werewolf strength as his now-free hand finds her clit, brushes against it so softly she wants to cry with frustration. The feather light touches are madness, too much but not enough - 

Lydia _screams_ when he slaps her clit, her body arching at the strength of her orgasm. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through her as Peter fucks into her, as he uses her like a toy for his own pleasure. The drag of his cock against her swollen walls feels so good, too good, with every thrust she feels like she can’t take more and then he’s sliding inside her again. 

She whines when he lifts her up and doesn’t slam her down, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. Peter’s eyes burn a brilliant blue and his fangs are coming out, peeking from between his lips as he growls deep in his chest. He moves almost too quickly for her to see when he flips her over, face down on the bed.

“Look at you, presenting so well. I could almost believe you’re in heat,” Peter murmurs when he moves to kneel behind her. To her horror, Lydia realizes that yes, she’s pulled her knees underneath her, has her ass sticking out like she’s _desperate_ to be bred, to be pupped up like a bitch. 

She spends far too much time with wolves, she thinks hazily before Peter is on her, strong arms bracketing her body as the thick head of his cock teases against her opening. 

“You’re natural at this,” Peter contemplates. “Or are you? Did you present for your pups like this, beg them to give it to you? Did they show you how to take a knot?”

Lydia shakes her head, her damp hair rubbing against the sheets. She can feel herself blushing, can feel the heat crawling down her spine to her cunt. “No, Daddy,” she whispers. “Only - only you.”

Peter clicks his tongue and pinches her ass, hard enough to leave a mark. “Now, now, Lydia… I know that’s not true. Who else has had you like this? Face down, ass up, cunt wet and needy, begging for seed?” 

It hits her then what he wants to hear, and the memory of Mr. Argent demanding to know what she’d done with Allison comes to her unbidden, suffusing her body with heat. “Mister - Mister Argent fucked me bare,” she moans, “But I wasn’t - I wasn’t like this. Not when he bred me. “

“Good girl,” Peter praises her and nudges the head of his cock into her cunt, the blunt tip stretching her hole but moving no further. “And was it like this when he fucked your slutty little ass? When he popped your cherry with his thick cock?” 

“No, Daddy - Daddy fucked me bent over the table,” the words rush out as a whimper and Lydia has to fight to not to push her ass out to him, to try to get more of his cock inside her. She knows he wouldn’t give it to her, that the only way she’ll be fucked is if she’s _good_. 

A part of her is appalled by her own thought process, by how easily she’s letting herself sink into this, sink into being treated so base, but there is absolutely no denying how turned on it makes her, how good it feels to _let go_ , to think of nothing but being fucked, of her next orgasm. 

“You’re a good girl for Daddy,” Peter practically purrs as he leans forward, his hot breath ghosting along her skin. “For me and Argent both. Offering up your holes for our cocks, begging for us to use your slutty little cunt.”

“Please, Daddy.” The words pass her lips so easily. 

“Oh, don’t worry sweetheart, I will give you exactly what you need.” She can _hear_ his smirk and then his hips are snapping forward, his cock breaching her completely. 

Lydia wails at the intrusion, at the hot drag of his cock inside her. There’s no finesse in his thrusts, no artistry, just a relentless pounding that has her seeing stars, her swollen cunt throbbing around him as he still finds that spot inside her unerringly. 

“Such a good bitch,” he’s growling in her ear and she can hear the slur of fangs in his words, “Gonna knot you tight, breed you so full you can _taste_ it.” 

His knee nudges her legs apart further and she cries out at the change of angle, at how hard he’s hammering into her; sparks fly behind her eyelids and she’s so close - 

Peter slams into her with an inhuman noise, his cock twitching inside her as he comes, the hot rush of seed inside her pushing Lydia over the edge. She sobs into the pillows as the orgasm wracks her body, every clench of her cunt around his cock sending another wave of pleasure through her. 

She can feel it, she can feel his knot coming in, can feel the base of his shaft swelling up and stretching her abused cunt further. It’s so big, he’s so big, she can’t take it, “Daddy please you’re too big-” and she means it, his cock is so thick even before the knot comes in and it’s too much.

“Shh, baby girl, you can take it,” Peter croons and his hand slips around her body, to brush against her clit. “Your sweet little cunt was made for this, made for being bred.” 

Lydia wants to deny him, tell him it hurts, it’s too much, to pull away before he’s locked in deep but she can’t help but whine at his words, lift up her ass as he _throbs_ inside her, another flood of warm come filling her up. 

“We’ll make sure you’ll never be empty.” Peter’s words soothe her even as he flicks his thumb against her clit and makes her body jerk with arousal. “Your pretty little pussy bred full, dripping with come Doesn’t that sound nice, Lydia? Letting Daddy take care of everything and keep you fucked full, keep your pretty holes stretched around our cocks.” 

She shudders when he says _we_ , her mind too far gone to process the mental images that should follow, the thought of being given more than this, fuller than this - it’s impossible, even now she feels like if she breathes she is going to tear apart and it feels so _good._

Peter leans forward and Lydia whines as his knot tugs at her cunt, she can hear him rooting through her bedside drawer, and she knows she should be alarmed, she should be upset he’s invading her privacy like that but he’s grinding his hips into her and it’s so maddeningly close to making her come - 

“Ah, here we go.” Peter’s voice is smug when he moves back, when he clicks a button and a slow, steady hum fills the air.

Lydia doesn’t resist when he pulls her up so she's in his lap, straddling his thighs as she sinks even deeper on him. 

“Let’s see how many times I can make you come with this,” he murmurs into her ear and licks at the tender shell. 

She screams when he presses the vibe against her clit, another orgasm rolling through her as the world goes dark around her, her body going limp. 

Lydia doesn’t know how long she’s out for, seconds or minutes but when she comes to, she’s cradled against Peter’s chest, the wolf cupping her face with one big hand.

“That’s it, sweetheart, keep breathing,” he murmurs as he strokes a strand of sweat soaked hair form her face. “I know how overwhelming it is, baby girl, just relax and let Daddy take care of you.” 

She draws a shuddering breath, her body quaking in his hold as the movement sends a frisson of pleasure down her spine. She’s still so full, still so sensitive it’s maddening; she’s never come that hard before, not even with her Hitachi, she’s never _blacked out_ from sheer ecstasy. 

“Daddy,” she whimpers, latching onto the word. “Please…” She’s not even sure what she is asking for. 

“What’s that, baby? You want more?” Peter kisses her ear and his hand slides down her belly, to rest on top of her mound. “Want Daddy to make you feel good, come on his knot again?” 

Lydia can’t make the words come out, can only nod frantically, head lolling against his shoulder. She can feel more than hear his pleased response, an inhuman purr that’s accompanied by his hand dipping lower, thumb and forefinger going around her clit. 

It only takes a few quick strokes and she’s coming with a gasp, a small, sweet orgasm washing over her. It’s barely abated when he touches her clit again, rubs a circle over the top and catches her just so, her gut clenching with heat. 

“That’s it, baby, you can go one more time.” Peter’s voice is low and rough. “Let me feel you come, Lydia-”

It’s too much, she’s too sore, too wrecked but his the heft of his knot against her g-spot is too much, his fingers rubbing at her clit with unrelenting gentleness drag her over the edge one more time. Her orgasm rolls through her, a flood of wet heat and her cunt clenches down on his knot as she gushes all over his hand. She slumps back against him, completely spent and boneless, body quivering with aftershocks. 

“Oh, Lydia, you’re so precious,” Peter hums into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “You squirted all over me from being knotted. Was this the first time?”

Lydia nods weakly. She’s come close with her toys but this is the first time it’s all built up into a heady, wet rush that’s left her so weak she’s completely held up by him, held up on his slowly deflating knot. 

Peter makes a pleased noise as he slowly eases her off his cock, the heavy girth of it still dragging along her walls in a way that makes her whine and shudder. She’s completely limp in his hold, easily handled by his werewolf strength as he arranges her on the bed. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Your sweet little cunt is all read and swollen, dripping with my come. Your little hole is gaping wide.” 

She can feel a blush on her cheeks but she’s too spent to say anything, to even squirm at how it tickles when he runs his hand over her inner thigh, gathers the come dripping from her used hole and pushes it back into her cunt. 

Lydia slowly catches her breath as he keeps chasing the wet trails down her thighs, fingers dipping in and out of her sore pussy. She feels like that time she fell astride the balance beam in middle school, only it feels good, like the slow, hot throbbing between her legs could turn into another series of mind-blowing orgasms any moment now. 

She doesn’t know how many times she’s come today - first with Mr. Argent, now with Peter, she lost count somewhere along the line. She feels exhausted, like her bones are cast out of lead but there’s still an elation to her, endorphins racing through her blood as she recovers from being used. 

The wolf in her bed is finally satisfied, pulling his hand away from her cunt; she whines without thinking, missing the touch and Peter laughs softly as he moves up the bed to gather her in his arms. 

Lydia did _not_ expect cuddles. 

She tells him so when he spoons against her back, his hand over her belly in a possessive arc. “You. Cuddling.”

“Yes, sweetheart, I like to cuddle. Are you going to be able to form full sentences any time soon or did I really fuck your delicious brains out?” 

“Never,” she says breezily as she settles against him, the unnatural heat of his body so good on her aching, bruised back. 

“That’s what I thought,” he seems immeasurably pleased with himself and she doesn’t have the energy to reach out to smack him.

She shivers a little when he kisses her hair, but it is a good kind of a shiver. He’s so warm and she’s so exhausted, she’ll just close her eyes for a moment… they can talk in a minute...

Lydia won’t know Peter finds her tiny snores absolutely adorable.

**Author's Note:**

> Mildly dubious consent: Peter is very manipulative but Lydia recognizes it and goes along; at one point she tells him to stop but he tells her she can take it, more in the vein of under-negotiated kink than disregard for consent
> 
> Implied/referenced incest: Lydia thinks back to Chris asking her about Allison and the implications of


End file.
